An Ice Cream Date
by EveningAngel
Summary: Scott goes out with Allison, leaving Stiles and Isaac alone; which, in retrospect, probably wasn't the greatest idea.


Summary: Scott goes out with Allison, leaving Stiles and Isaac alone; which, in retrospect, probably wasn't the greatest idea.

Today, Stiles had come to the conclusion that Scott was indeed an ass. As he sat on the werewolf's mattress, he watched Isaac pacing around his room. Quite frankly Stiles was getting used to being ditched, but usually it was Isaac and Scott that left him out of everything. Now that Scott and Allison were on speaking terms again though, it seemed Scott had decided to ditch the both of them to go conquer the Argent's heart. While Stiles somewhat understood, he didn't appreciate one bit that he had locked Isaac and him in a room together, and told them to 'bond' while he was away.

"I swear to god, if it wasn't for Scott having asked—" Stiles cut him off mid-sentence, rolling his eyes. "I know, you would've left already. I get it. You don't like me. I don't like you. And right now I don't really like Scott. But I would seriously appreciate it if you didn't bring up the fact that you _hate me_ every five seconds, Isaac." The werewolf sighed and he sat down on Scott's bed, as far away as possible from Stiles as he could get.

"So what do we do?" Stiles shrugged. "I was planning on just... waiting it out," he admitted. Isaac's jaw tightened. Perhaps Stiles was patient enough to do that, but he certainly wasn't. "I can break down that door," he offered, a sly grin forming on his pink lips. "Oh, yeah, and then what? Scott's mom kicks you out and you have to bunk with me? Nuh uh, werepup, bad idea." Isaac raised an eyebrow as he turned to look at Stiles. "Werepup?" It was almost a growl, and it made Stiles gulp. "Sorry," he said breathlessly.

Isaac rolled his eyes and stood up, walking towards the window. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. "Hey, guess what. Looks like the _genius_ forgot to lock his window." Stiles jumped up when the werewolf began to open it. "Oh yeah, smart guy, and where do you go after? You kind of _live here _now." Isaac stopped midway through shoving himself through the window. He seemed to think it over for a moment, before climbing back through the window.

"Okay, so what _do_ we do?It's probably three million fucking degrees in here, and I think I might be dying." Stiles crossed his arms in front of his chest, standing in front of the window, and grinned teasingly. "I could buy you ice cream," he said, trying to hold back a laugh. Isaac's eyebrows furrowed. "Ice cream, Stilinski?" Stiles' grin only widened at the werewolf's discontent. "Yeah, ice cream. I mean, I think it's a _great_ idea. We get out of this room, you get to cool off, and we get some bonding time! Which is exactly what Scott wants. So what do you say, ol' buddy, ol' chap?"

At that point, Isaac began to understand why Derek so badly wanted to rip that hyperactive little teenager's throat out – with his teeth. Nonetheless, after a bit of thinking – six seconds of it, to be precise – he ended up nodding. Stiles, almost surprised, didn't say anything for a moment, brown eyes wide and confused. He began rubbing the back of his neck nervously, though he did manage an accomplished smile. "—Let's… let's go then," he said, pointing to the window behind him with his thumb.

Now, climbing out windows was probably one of Stiles' least favourite things – not that he had ever done it, he only imagined it to be terrifying, and most likely painful. One leg at a time, he slowly climbed out the window. As soon as he was out, he sighed in relief. Literally seconds after, Isaac was out, and closing the window behind him. The werewolf chuckled. "Out of shape, Stilinski?" Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, just get in my damn Jeep."

And so, an utterly awkward drive to the nearest ice cream shop began. The silence became so heavy on Stiles' frail shoulders that he began tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, his nerves getting the better of him. Though he said nothing at first, the repetitive sound was driving Isaac out of his goddamn mind. After about three minutes of hearing him tap, he lost it. "Stilinski, if you don't stop in the next five seconds, I will seriously consider murdering you."

For a second, Stiles was convinced he was sitting next to none other than Derek Hale. As he looked to his right, though, all he saw was a curly-haired teenager who seemed just about ready to tear him to pieces. He gulped, and stopped tapping. "Uh—some radio then, huh? Radio's good, right?" Stiles flailed clumsily and turned it on, not much caring what song was playing, as long as the silence was lifted.

Thankfully, the drive was soon over and Stiles was pulling up at the ice cream shop. Both of them got out of the car, and the crushing heat hit them like a pile of bricks. "Holy shit, I'm glad we decided to get ice cream," Isaac said as he vainly attempted to loosen his tight-fitting shirt. "See? I'm a genius." Stiles' comment only made the werewolf roll his eyes as the both of them entered the shop.

Apparently they didn't know of air conditioning, because the place was as hot as it was outside. Even though it was in refrigerated containers, Stiles was still surprised that all the ice cream hadn't already melted. Isaac contemplated the different flavours for a few moments before finally walking up to the counter.

"Two mint chocolate cones, please," he ordered, leaning his elbow on the flat surface with a slight grin. The girl behind the counter giggled, and nodded before getting to work. Stiles would have commented on how unnecessary that little bit of flirting had been, but he was too upset that Isaac hadn't consulted him before ordering. "Hey—who said I wanted mint chocolate?" Isaac turned towards him, that same grin stuck to his face. "I did. If you're not happy, I could eat both." Stiles rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he sighed.

When the girl came back with the two cones, Isaac paid and took them both, walking back over to Stiles and handing him one. Though he seemed displeased, he took the cone, muttering something about maple nut and taking an experimental lick at the ice cream. "There're tables outside," Isaac said, more of an order than suggestion. Stiles nodded and the both of them left the shop to go sit at one of the small round tables outside.

The both of them licked at their cones for a few moments in silence before Stiles finally got curious. "Why'd you agree to this?" Isaac shrugged, taking a bit of ice cream onto his finger. "It's hot out," he answered nonchalantly, staring at the ice cream on his finger as if in deep concentration. He then grinned, and looked up at Stiles. "What? What is it? Do I have ice cream on my face or something—okay, where is it. Isaac, could you just—"

And suddenly Isaac's finger was smearing ice cream all over Stiles' cheek, and Stiles was yelping like a little girl. "What the hell, dude! That's freakin' cold!" And Isaac only laughed, unable to hold it back. Mumbling something under his breath, Stiles flung a bit of ice cream at the werewolf's face, and it landed right in the middle of his forehead. Now grinning as well, he let out a satisfied chuckle. "Oh, so an ice cream war's what you want?"

So began a contest of who could get who dirtier. Ice cream was thrown, smeared and catapulted, landing on clothes, skin, hair, and literally every single place you might be able to think of. And, soon enough, there was no ice cream left for them to eat.

Panting slightly, a wide grin on his face, Isaac licked his lips. "I think I've definitely won," he teased, looking Stiles up and down. The teenager's cheeks, nose, and forehead were smeared with the stuff, and it had gotten into his hair, and on some parts of his shirt. Not to mention, his lips were literally drowning in melting ice cream. He rolled his eyes, though a half-smirk teased at the corner of his lips. "Sure. You win, werepup."

Isaac smirked, and before he even knew it, he was leaning down towards Stiles and licking the other boy's lips clean. Stiles didn't move for a second, mouth opening and closing as if he was going to say something, but he didn't. He just stared at Isaac – who was, of course, still smirking like an idiot – and swallowed hard when he finally decided he didn't know what to say.

"Cat got your tongue, Stilinski?" Stiles shook his head lightly, before finally getting the courage to open his mouth to speak. "You're such a fucking tease," he muttered as he then leaned in to slowly lick some ice cream off of the werewolf's cheek. A low chuckle escaped Isaac's lips as the other pulled away, and Stiles couldn't help but lick his own lips at the delightful sound.

"Maybe we should go get cleaned up," Isaac suggested, raising a brow. "Cleaned up—?" It took him a moment to catch on, but when he did, his eyes went wide and he nodded frantically. "Yeah, uh—let's go do that. Like now," Stiles insisted, eager to finish what they had seemingly started. Isaac simply smirked as he sat up from the table. "Fine. But I'm driving," he said as he turned to walk towards the Jeep – and Stiles would never admit it, but he stayed seated just that second longer to be able to stare at the werewolf's ass.


End file.
